As it Should Be
by slanderblob
Summary: A crossover between Harry Potter and Battlestar Galactica. HP characters are abducted as suspected cylon agents. Hilarity ensues.
1. Preface

Preface

Hey! We (Mel and Julie aka slanderblob and acidburn), as quite possibly the only fans of both Harry Potter and Battlestar Galactica, believe it is our sacred duty to make this fic available to the general public and correct several misconceptions about the universes of said genres. Now, to drop the legal bombshell. Muahaha! We DO NOT own BSG and/or HP. We DO, however, own the passionate flame that connects BSG and HP together through their most beloved characters. Once again, we own only the flame. It's very shiny.

Anyway, I hope you kids enjoy our fic. Squiggle giggles!!!!

(P.S.: All chapters narrated by Snape are written by Julie, and all chapters narrated by Starbuck are written by Mel.)


	2. Chapter 1: Snape Gets Abducted

Chapter 1: Snape Gets Abducted

_Hogwarts Bids a Sad Farewell_, blared the newspaper title. Below, a black-and-white photograph of Minerva sobbed uncontrollably and shamelessly as Ministry officials slapped a padlock on the gates, closing the school indefinitely. The scene could not have been more heart-wrenching. Well, maybe if it featured some screaming peasant women tearing at their hair. Or a few depressed children. I chuckled groggily. Yeah, a few hysterical kids would really play at my heart strings right now.

Slowly, I let my head sink down and rest atop the café table. Ten rounds of heavily spiked Earl Grey and I still hadn't become sufficiently emotionally detached from all of this. Pretty soon I might have to retire to actual alcohol, I thought, and the idea struck me as ridiculously amusing. I sniggered into the tabletop.

Here's a real funny one—Dumbledore's murderer sits around in broad daylight in a well-traveled area of Knockturn Alley, begging for the Azkaban guards to descend upon him and bring a swift end to his misery, and after five hours he still has yet to be apprehended. Suddenly stuck by the thought, I raised my head to see if anyone was nearby. Most of Knockturn Alley has become suspiciously quiet, as any dark witch or wizard of sound mind was currently in hiding. The café at which I was seated was deserted except for a hung-over bartender who only stuck around because she was under the delusion that I might tip. Not that the few dented knuts in my pocket could even pay for the newspaper. Or the tea. Or the bendy straws. Nearby, I could hear pandemonium in Diagon Alley, which was no more than two or three blocks away. It sounded as though every respectable wizard and witch and shrieking infant in London had come out to noisily lament and race around the streets. I should go tell them to open the bloody school back up, I thought sourly, if that might influence the population of Diagon Alley to shut their collective pie-holes.

Just then the warty tavern wench whose voice strangely resembled that of Dolores Umbridge approached my table. "Can I get you another cuppa, dearie? Do you take milk or lemon with your tea?"

"Vodka," I drawled, rolling my eyes up to meet her gaze. "Leave the bottle, I can help meself."

As she turned to slink away, however, she suddenly fixed me with a wary eye, as though struck by a sudden idea. "Aren't you, er, _that man_, you know, from the newspapers…?" she clumsily tried to articulate.

FINALLY, I thought to myself with a wave of relief, finally someone recognizes me. Now all she has to do is summon the dementors and it will finally be over. All the guilt, all the lying and sneaking and tireless effort will finally be at an end. The gears in the witch's noggin were turning a bit too slowly for me, so as a final ultimatum I flipped the newspaper back to the page that featured a large picture of my grimacing visage, complete with a WANTED caption. As her eyes darted between my face and my photograph, both staring her down with an identical sour expression, she suddenly gave a short gasp and glanced around wondering what to do next.

"The bounty is fifteen thousand galleons," I prompted her, quickly losing patience with her slow processing. "Well, go on! Call up some Ministry officials or whatever it is you people are supposed to do! Go on now, go!" The bar maid scampered away in a dazed state of panic, still glancing back at me as if she wanted me to take her hand and guide her to a grown-up she could tattle to.

I sighed, slouching down to take a last sip of the lukewarm tea before me. Before my lips could touch the rim, the wind abruptly picked up to a nearly gale force speed, causing the teacup to spill over. My soaked photograph began to sputter furiously, desperately trying to wipe away the drops of Earl Grey as I glanced up, trying to locate the source of the sudden weather shift. Were the dementors really coming so quickly? Or was an entire Quiddich team passing overhead? As the source of the high winds approached, my silky raven locks began to blow in my face, obscuring my vision. It's times like these, I thought with irritation, that I almost consider a haircut. Almost.

As I battled with my uncontrollable hair, I could hear the metallic, whining sound of a machine slowing to a halt in the empty square just a few feet away. The wind gently died back down to a summer breeze, leaving me to frantically smooth my hair back. And there it was—a spaceship. It was unmistakable, taking me back to the painful days of my youth, when my source of entertainment was watching muggle sci-fi crap on the telly. I swear, the Ministry gets more and more flashy every year, I thought to myself, but not without confusion.

With a whoosh, I heard the door of the spacecraft open on the other side, out of my range of vision. "Sharon," I heard a man exclaim, "look at this! Buildings, Sharon. Real, human-occupied buildings. A real town. Gods, do you think this is it—could this be Earth?" I frowned to myself. This certainly didn't sound like anyone from the Ministry, especially because the speaker had a strong American accent. For Christ's sake, I thought bitterly, just as I finally get my chance to make amends for killing Dumbledore, alien muggles decide to show up. This is just my luck.

"Galactica, this is Athena, do you read?" a woman's voice called out. "Request permission to speak to Galactica actual." There was a pause, and then: "Damnit, Helo, we're out of transmission range."

"Keep trying, Shairn. I'm going to go have a look around." With that, the speaker stepped around the side of the spacecraft, saw my grimacing expression, and stopped cold.

"Cheers, old boy," I muttered, saluting him with my teacup. "It's been fun, but now I have an execution to attend, if you'll excuse me—"

"Dr. Baltar?" he interrupted. "What are you doing down here? And why are you dressed like a priest?"

I frowned, a bit put off. "I'm not a priest, you jet-lagged fool," I snapped. "Nor am I a doctor. I'm a wizard, and I was happily on my way to the sweet gates of death before you idiots showed up."

"Sharon!" shrieked the uniformed man, obviously not hearing me at all. "It's Baltar! Or a copy of Baltar! He must be…a CYLON!!!"

"What?" I stammered, utterly bewildered.

A lovely young Asian woman next appeared from around the side of the spacecraft to see the source of his wild accusations. "You're the father of my child!" she cried at me, wagging her finger.

I stared back in horror. "But I haven't been with a woman in…years! Unless your kid is, like, twenty-three!"

"No, no, dear. I'm the father. We've talked about this," the man said to her soothingly, patting her shoulder.

"Oh, right. I forgot," she smiled. "I just got so used to saying it constantly. Sorry, Helo." Suddenly she whipped a gun out of the holster at her side and pointed it squarely at my head. "In that case, you're coming with us." I instantly reached for my wand.

"Not so fast!" shrieked the man, now drawing his side-arm as well.

"Oh please," I drawled, "Please can't you just wait one minute more? Soon the Ministry will be here and I'll be able to die in peace."

"Oh, that can be arranged," barked the dolt in the uniform. "We put Cylons like you out the airlock. Onboard. NOW."

In the next few seconds, the two muggles emptied my pockets of my wand, a few varied potions, and whatever money I had left. Next I had endure a ride back up to the mothership, during which the lovebirds quarreled about who had to feed little Hera, the child of whom I was supposedly the father. I eventually dozed off during a heated debate about Hera's playdate with little Caleb.

I was awakened by a firm slap across the back of my head, unfortunately ruining my 'do.

"Wake up, you fracking toaster!" screamed a muscular, tattooed blonde woman seated across from me.

"Do I look like a bread-toasting apparatus to you? I think not." I retorted.

"Think you're funny, don't you?" she snarled. "Do you have a witty-remark-generator up there with the rest of the programming, or what?"

I blinked. "Wait, you think I'm…a robot? First I get accused of being a religious leader, then a father figure, and now I'm machinery. You know, being abducted by otherworldly muggles and getting accused of all these wonderful things wasn't exactly my idea of atonement. I'm sure it was a valiant effort. You can tell the Ministry I want to come down now."

"Gee, that's got to be one of the more creative excuses I've heard," she laughed sarcastically. "Unfortunately, since you seem unwilling to offer us the information we want, we're gonna have to beat it out of you."

I smirked. "I've withstood multiple instances of the Cruciatus curse in my time, little lady. I'd like to see you break down ol' 'Stonewall' Snivelly—" Before I finish condescending to her, she smacked me again, this time right across the face. "Ouch!" I yelped. "No need to be so harsh!"

"So let's go with the theory that you didn't slaughter my entire race—" she began.

"Wow," I replied. "You knock off a few muggles here and there and suddenly you're the bad guy."

"Don't interrupt me!" she barked. "If you're not a Cylon, how do you explain this?"

She beckoned to the guard who opened the door. A few more marines marched in, dragging along a young man who looked very frightened and confused. What a poor and pitiful little creature, I thought. Yet as the man drew closer and closer, I realized he bore a striking—no, _unmistakable_ resemblance to…ME?! Long black hair, hooked nose, stammering English accent…I stared back, breathless, trying desperately to understand.

"Dr. Baltar," smirked the blondie, "meet Dr. Baltar."


	3. Chapter 2: An Abundance of Baltars

(a brief statement: I know the ending of this chapter is pretty sexually charged, but the "discovery" Gaeta makes isn't anything creepy, I promise. Really. It's NOT creepy. You'll see.)

Chapter 2 – An Abundance of Baltars

Dr. Baltar and I stared at each other with an identical expression of horror and confusion. "But this is impossible," we both stammered in unison, next covering our mouths in yet more horror and confusion.

"I always get blamed for everything, it's not bloody fair!" my mysteriously twin suddenly burst out in the whiniest version of my own voice I've ever heard. I felt vaguely disgusted. "It's always 'traitor-to-the-human-race' this and 'cylon-frakker' that! So maybe there was a brief episode of selling out government secrets, but…after all I've done for you! All I've done for you all!" He began sniffling pathetically, dabbing at his eyes with a hanky.

"Oh believe me, I know," I interjected. "I mean there was this one time where I was all, 'avada kedavra' and everyone was freakin' out at me but it was perfectly innocent, and then the man was all, 'azkaban, punk,' and I was all, 'dude, so unfair—'"

The muscular blond chick suddenly cut off my sentimental moment with a signal to the guards standing behind me, who immediately yanked me to my feet. "I'll let you two reminisce about the good ol' days of disrespecting authority in the brig. Take them away."

As the two beefcakes manhandled me towards the door, I saw the blond soldier reach into a container beside her marked 'evidence.' She pulled out each item one by one, scrutinizing them with obvious confusion—a few dented knuts, a potion flask, my wand…

My wand!! "ACCIO WAND!" I shouted, wrenching my arm free from the guards' muscular grasp. The wand flew from the woman's hand into my own, leaving her with a stunned expression on her face. "Confringo!" I yelled, waving the wand about wildly.

A bit too wildly, I realized with embarrassment as the wall next to me exploded. Through the resulting hole a gruff man whose acne scars resembled large craters grimaced at me. "What the frak is wrong with you, Doc?" he barked, apparently put off that I had interrupted his attempts at building a model sailboat.

Recovering from her shock, the blond soldier darted up and pried the wand from my hands. "I don't know what the frak you just did," she snapped, "but we don't keep dangerous machines around. You've got a date with the airlock, bud."

"So say we all," growled the crater-face, turning back to his toy ship.

Without further ado, the marines pulled me towards the door. "Accio—" I began, but was instantly silenced by a marine who struck me across the back of the head. I was out cold.

I came to in a yet darker and more cramped room, describable only as a prison cell. Groaning in agony, I glanced around. The room was bare—no bed, no toilet, no throw-rug, nothing. In the corner, however, lay my doppelganger Dr. Baltar, who was crying again.

I sat up, rubbing the back of my head with a wince. It felt as though a thousand splinters were being driven through my temples, and the incessant sobbing of the doctor in the corner wasn't helping in any way. I hadn't felt so bad since I had tried a sip of Firewhiskey back in Wizarding Grad School. The wild days…

Silently, I took a moment to scrutinize my cellmate. It was remarkable, even disturbing, how similar we appeared to be. Our pearl-white skin was the exact same shade, our hooked noses both framed by flowing ebony locks. Even our voices were exactly the same chipper accent, although his was raised to a much higher pitch in his hysteria. Only our temperament seemed to exhibit any difference; my blubbering counterpart was now wheedling at the top of his lungs for a lawyer and fair trial in due process, whilst I watched with stony-faced sarcastic apathy.

"Hullo," I ventured timidly.

He instantly whipped around to face me, suddenly alert. For a moment, he gaped at me silently and then: "H-Hullo…" There was a paused as we looked at each other hesitantly, each trying to rationalize the situation. "I—I suppose I should make a proper introduction, I'm Gaius Baltar…although I suppose you are as well." I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, his eyes suddenly shining with what looked like glee. "It might have been the worst moment in my lifetime when I concluded that I was not, could not be a Cylon, but here we are, aren't we? Me, a Cylon! I suppose this does shed a ray of hope on the future, I mean, I may finally be able to find some conclusive meaning to my life now—"

"Excuse me," I interrupted dryly, "but I have no idea what in Merlin's name is going on. I'm not _you_, Gaius Baltar. My name is Professor Severus Snape. I was abducted and brought here against my will, I don't even know what a Cylon _is_."

Gaius blinked at me in confusion. "Alright, I'll try and explain this to you as best I can," he began slowly, as though speaking to a child. "These things, Cylons, are robots, part mechanical and part biological. The Cylons were created by humans. They rebelled. They evolved. They look—and feel—human. There are many copies. And they have a plan!!" He stopped suddenly, clearing his throat apologetically. "Sorry. I got a bit carried away at the end there. A bit doomsday-ish."

I frowned, trying to make sense of what I had just heard. "So they think we might be Cylons? What, just because we look…well…identical?"

Gaius shrugged nonchalantly. "What other explanation do you have? That's the way it works. A copy of someone suddenly shows up, of course they must be two of the same Cylon model. It makes for some fantastic hijinks, really, like when the two Sharons had a bit of a throwdown during negotiations once. It was a real hoot." He paused, suddenly pensive. "The Cylons are actively hunted by the humans because they tried to execute the genocide of the human race. We were very nearly wiped out. Unfortunately, I was unwittingly a part of their plan, and have been ostracized for colluding with the enemy. I didn't have any such intentions at first, but now I hardly know which way to turn…though now that I'm a Cylon, I suppose the way is finally clear."

"Wait a moment. You're a double-agent?" I balked. "_I'm _a double-agent. Where I'm from, I'm looked on as a traitor for plotting with a group who wanted to destroy a good portion of the wizarding community." I paused, shocked. "Maybe there is something to all this. There are just too many similarities to feasibly ignore here!"

Gaius chuckled darkly. "I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. It's not going to matter for much longer. We'll both be killed, then download into brand new bodies on the Basestar. A whole new beginning. Isn't it beautiful?"

I blanched, panicked. "But that's the last thing I want! I was supposed to die in a blaze of glory! I was supposed to turn myself in, a final act of atonement for all I've done! And now, what will they think of me now?! They've probably assumed I've run for my life…history doesn't look kindly on cowards…"

A sudden noise at the door interrupted my anxiety. "It's time now," Gaius muttered excitedly as the latch began to turn and the door swung open.

Through the open portal stepped a young Polynesian man, dressed smartly in a partially-unbuttoned blue uniform, the collar flapping open in suave sophistication. He sauntered forward in what seemed like slow motion; his smooth, creamy caramel skin seemed to glisten as he ran one of his strong hands through the glossy expresso-colored ringlets of his hair. I could swear I heard "You Sexy Thing" playing in the background. "Hello, Gaius," he purred in a voice that sounded like whipped mocha silk heaven. I glanced at Gaius, who was sweating profusely for some reason and fingering with the collar of his shirt. I raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, _Mr. Gaeta_," Gaius panted. "So you are to be my executioner, is that it? Well," he murmured to me in an undertone, "as far as last looks go, I really can't complain! Eh? Eh?" He elbowed me playfully. I stared back, completely unmoved.

Gaeta motioned to a nearby guard, who unlocked the gate to the cell. "Well, well, Gaius," he began, "isn't this familiar?" He entered the cell and surveyed my twin silently. There was a long pause. "The president and admiral agree that I should give the two of you a physical examination. They feel it may produce some answers concerning the extraordinary powers the final five seem to possess."

"Powers?" Gaius asked, bewildered. "Have you been talking to those cult-ish harem girls again? You know, I'm not _actually _the Messiah…"

"I…I accidentally blew up a wall," I explained, blushing.

Gaius balked at me. "Wait…what?"

"I'm a wizard, I cast a spell that made a wall explode." I admitted, embarrassed. "Normally I'm very talented at magic, believe me. It was just a high stress situation. A very easy mistake to make."

Gaius continued balking. "Seriously…you blew up a wall?!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Gaeta sarcastically, "but we need to get down to business."

"Wait a moment, why isn't Doc Cottle conducting the examination? I thought he was the token physician on the fleet," Gaius asked.

"He's been on a smoke break for the past four days," Gaeta explained. "The patients in sickbay were starting to complain when he graduated to fifteen packs a day." The young man motioned to the guard, who closed and latched the door. "Now I'm going to have to ask you to strip."

"As you command, sir," replied Gaius swarthily.

"A…_tempting_ offer," Gaeta murmured, eyeing Dr. Baltar. "However, I've been asked to look at the Earthling first, as he is the first to demonstrate inhuman abilities." The two turned to me, expectantly.

Blushingly, I fumbled at the buttons of my robes. _This is just my goddamn luck_, I thought with extreme annoyance, slipping my arms out of the sleeves clumsily. I had barely even exposed my chest when I heard Gaeta gasp suddenly in shock.

"Get the admiral on the line," he barked to the nearby marine. "Tell him I've made a very disturbing discovery…this could change _everything_."


	4. Chapter 3: The Black Forest

Chapter 3 – The Black Forest

"Can I put my robes back on yet?" I asked haltingly, blushing. "Um…hallo?" Lieutenant Gaeta didn't respond, still staring wide-eyed at me as though mesmerized. It was beginning to get a bit awkward. I squirmed under his slack-jawed gaze, finally focusing my attention on Gaius, who was glancing between Gaeta and I with a sulky, jealous expression. "Can someone please explain what is going on?!"

Gaius only pouted in response. "Felix never looked at _me _like that. I bet you think you're so bloody special. Frakking Cylon."

I rolled my eyes heavenward in exasperation. "I change my mind about this whole atonement thing, God—I think I've suffered enough, you can let me get back to my normal life now where things MADE SENSE!"

Suddenly the cabin door swung open and in marched a barrage of officials led by the crater-faced man who I had upset earlier…the whole, y'know, blowing-up-the-wall fiasco, really not my finest moment. With him stood a number of military escorts, including the muscular blonde woman who interrogated me earlier. The crater man in charge saluted to the guards who wordlessly unbolted the gate to the cell. I flushed a fierce red as the group filed in and stared at me with serious expressions, save for the blonde, who looked completely unfazed, even bored. "Niiice," she chuckled. "Well, kudos on the peep show. I've got to get back to, you know, my job."

"While we're at it, can I get back to my execution?" I drawled. "It sounded much less painful."

"Let's cut to the chase, Lieutenant," the gruff man growled at Gaeta, "what have you discovered about the Earthling copy?"

"It's—it's quite remarkable, Admiral, sir," Gaeta stammered, apparently unable to tear his eyes off me. "I couldn't believe it at first, myself, but there is no other feasible explanation…these two men are not identical copies! As logic stands, neither of them is, in fact, a Cylon!"

A collective gasp went up around the room, and I heard Gaius quietly cry out "No!" in disappointment. The Admiral's military escort crowd positively shook with excitement, everyone jostling to get a better look at me. "That's what I've been telling you, you asses," I snapped.

"What the hell, Felix, anyone can see they're exactly the same!" barked a guard near the back of the room.

"No, no, the Lieutenant's got it right," gasped the blonde woman in front, who was now sizing me up with an uncharacteristically shell-shocked expression. With their identically stunned-dumb expressions, she and Gaeta could be in the running for the next Cylon pair, I thought to myself wryly. "My Gods, I…I can't believe I didn't notice it right off the bat, he's right, they're totally different!"

I looked at Gaius, who had tears rolling from his swollen eyes by now, and saw nothing but a crying reflection of myself, mirror image down to the last miniscule detail. "Are you absolutely sure?" I queried honestly. Just looking at him begged the question. "He looks…._just _like me."

"Starbuck, Gaeta, don't keep us all in suspense, out with it!" barked the Admiral, frustrated.

"If I may direct you attention to the Earth subject's, er, chest, sir," began Gaeta.

"Yeah, we all got us an eyeful of that already," a soldier called out. The crowd laughed, and I reddened.

Gaeta glared back, silencing them. "You will notice it's relatively devoid of body hair," he explained. I glanced down at myself, feeling self-conscious. "An interesting discovery, considering that Dr. Gaius Baltar possesses an incredibly profuse amount of chest hair! And I'm talking, like, a small afro-sized portion, sir. The difference is unmistakable."

All eyes turned to Gaius, who was sulking by himself in the far corner, murmuring "Gods damnit" to himself. He glanced up, realizing everyone's unspoken expectation. "Oh, please, I'm hardly in the _mood_," he sniffled. At a sharp look from Gaeta, he sighed, and wordlessly unbuttoned a single button of his shirt. My jaw involuntarily dropped. It looked like a small furry animal had burrowed there. It looked like the flippin' black forest.

"Holy crap, dude," whispered a guard.

The Admiral sported a genuine look of confusion. "Mr. Gaeta, how do you know this isn't some elaborate—albeit ridiculous—Cylon ploy? How do you _know _the final five can't, I dunno, change their appearance to trick us? I mean, Gods, look at that _hair_, it just can't be real!"

"Oh believe me, sir, Dr. Baltar has always looked this way," Gaeta said evenly. "You see, I'm very familiar with his habitual appearance, I…" Gaeta suddenly blushed and trailed off into an indistinguishable tangent of mumbles.

"What's that, son? Out with it!" the Admiral barked.

"I…I keepapictureofhiminmybunk," Gaeta stammered quickly, blushing. "But I'm sure you can ask any of the Doctor's, er, _female acolytes_ to verify. As I'm sure you know, he keeps close company with a group of women in the Sector E area."

The cantankerous Admiral paused, clearly frustrated by his newfound lack of justification for throwing me out of the airlock. "I want them examined extensively by Doc Cottle, I want blood tests, DNA tests, every frakking test in the frakking book! I want this confirmed as a verifiable fact!" He cast a furious glance around the room. "You're all dismissed! Back to work! And you two—" he fixed Gaius and I with a fiery gaze as the soldiers and Lieutenant Gaeta shuffled towards the door, "—you just stay put, in your cell, until Cottle sends for you. I want no more frakking funny business."

He turned and stormed out of the cabin as I graciously re-buttoned my robes. The rest of the crew filed out after him, the blonde soldier Starbuck pausing only to smirk back at me—"Hell of a peep show,"—and then they were gone, the cabin empty save for Gaius and I.

There was an awkward pause as I watched him wiping his teary eyes in silence. "Hey…take it easy, it's for the best really," I reassured him feebly, scarcely understanding why he wanted to be a Cylon in the first place. "I mean, I'm sure you have a decent life on the Battlestar as it is. Like that whole sector-E-fangirl-harem thing, what's that about? That doesn't sound like something to cry over, you lucky bastard." Gaius chuckled despite himself. "That's right. Sounds a lot better than the life I left on Earth."

"Yes, I suppose things could be worse," Gaius mused. "And- hey! Now I have a second me! You know, that's actually always been a dream of mine. I could introduce you to my girls! We could paint the town red, as it were!" He beamed at me. I grinned back nervously.

"Heh, I dunno," I replied self-consciously. Irrepressibly, I recalled the memory of Starbuck laughing at me as I blushingly stood before her in my skivvies. "I've never really had a _way_ with women."

"Nonsense, you'll be a hit!" he babbled on, oblivious of my discomfort. "Those crazy girls'll be all over you, they'll probably dig the whole 'otherworldly' thing, those frakking wacked-up broads— "

Mercifully, the cabin door swung open, bringing Gaius' macho tirade to a halt. In stepped a thoroughly unremarkable woman in a lab coat and her marine escort. She motioned to the guards, who opened the cell and beckoned us out. "Hello Dr. Baltar, and, um, Earthling," she smiled. "Dr. Cottle will see you now. Please follow me."


End file.
